


Forever Young

by thegirlnamedcove



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Adderall Abuse, Alive Laura Hale, But it's not central, Child Neglect, F/M, Immaturity, M/M, No Argents, Pack Dynamics, Pack Feels, Sheriff Stilinski Finds Out About Werewolves, Sheriff Stilinski's Name is Noah, Stiles Stilinski is Part of the Hale Pack, The Hale Pack - Freeform, background Alpha pack, but its not explicit, nobody dies except peter, people just swan in and out of this story randomly, pre berica, season one rewrite
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-23
Updated: 2017-10-23
Packaged: 2019-01-22 03:16:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 12,370
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12472248
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thegirlnamedcove/pseuds/thegirlnamedcove
Summary: “What do you want Laura?” he groaned, “Why am I up?”“Because you're going to pack a bag with whatever's clean and come with me back to California,” she fished a folded page out of her back pocket and handed it over, “Someone is on our territory with a vendetta in mind.”He accepted the paper and opened it up, smoothing it against the side of the mattress. It was a picture, printed out from an email, of a deer with a spiral carved in its side.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [the_problem_with_stardust](https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_problem_with_stardust/gifts).



> So, just gonna throw it out there. I used theproblemwithstardust on tumblr as a beta, and only afterwards noticed that the person I was writing this for is the_problem_with_stardust. If you're the same person, I apologize for being a massive goober, and am so incredibly glad you liked it when you beta-read it, because otherwise this would be even more awkward.
> 
> Regardless, here is the sum total of four months of me getting mad at season one, getting mad at every character's shitty parents, and getting mad at all those songs on the radio about being young forever. Growing up is actually kind of nice.
> 
> The Argents never move back to town in my story because fuck them, honestly.

Before he'd managed to open his eyes Laura was already pushing against his shoulders, claws peeking out and pricking against his skin. He complied as she moved him, just wanting to die he was so hungover, and didn't notice how far she was pushing until he tumbled ass first out of the bed and onto the floor.

When he surfaced from within his blankets his Alpha was glaring down at him, arms crossed over her chest. Already dressed, he noticed, which meant it was probably approaching noon. His skull felt too tight in his skin and his teeth weren't sitting right in his gums. He needed a shower and a bottle of water, badly.

“Surprised to find you alone in here little brother,” Laura said, her voice elevated but not shouting, just loud enough to make the place behind his eyes sting, “No luck at The Dead Rabbit’s last night?”

“You were pretty clear last time about not bringing any more strangers home. And I am the image of an obedient beta.”

Laura snorted but didn't smile.

“Oh I very much doubt that. Judging by the way you're screwing up your face I bet you got ugly drunk and no one wanted a piece of  _ that _ .”

“What do you want Laura?” he groaned, “Why am I up?”

“Because you're going to pack a bag with whatever's clean and come with me back to California,” she fished a folded page out of her back pocket and handed it over, “Someone is on our territory with a vendetta in mind.”

He accepted the paper and opened it up, smoothing it against the side of the mattress. It was a picture, printed out from an email, of a deer with a spiral carved in its side.

 

***

 

The drive took three days, with each of them taking shifts while the other slept. Laura took nights, her eyes more capable in the darkness, and Derek took days. They stopped at a few diners, even took a few pictures in front of desert bluffs and huge sequoias, but for the most part they kept on. Derek couldn't remember the last time they'd stayed this silent, even when Laura was upset with him or lecturing him about college.

They both knew what the spiral meant, from the one pack war they'd been around for when their parents were alive. A few packs had been visiting in an attempt at diplomacy, and the local hunter family had tried to poison every wolf in the building. When the hunters got away unharmed and the werewolves had no legal recourse an Alpha named Ennis had carved it into the wall. Derek still remembered the photos his mother showed at their own pack's meeting, and what he'd seen from his and Paige’s spot in the rafters. It meant Ennis would not stop until he was satisfied. As far as either of the Hales knew the alphas never had been satisfied and the Alpha Pack was still roving up and down the west coast out for blood and new members. Derek cut a glance across to Laura one evening, with that thought pushing at the back of his mind, but he quickly dismissed it. She'd never join, not while she still had a choice.

Somewhere around Wyoming he got curious about something else, though.

“Why exactly did I have to come?”

Laura stiffened in the driver's seat, and drew up to her full height.

“Not because of that, Jesus,” he said, “It's just...I would think you'd handle this on your own. You know, keep our presence in New York by leaving me, show your force by acting like you're just passing through. Nothing we haven't done before.”

Beacon Hills needed constant minding, it seemed, and up until then Laura had seemed happy to restrain her involvement to a few phone calls to the local police or a quick plane ride over so she could be seen around town and assert their claim. Derek was usually left out of politics.

“I just...I have a bad feeling about this one. It feels too personal. Some woman whose name I don't recognize emailing me pictures of dead deer? It just didn't sit right and I couldn't commit to a single plane ticket. It doesn't feel... It just doesn't…”

Derek reached over and clasped her hand in his.

“I trust your instincts, Laurie.”

She smiled, but it was thin. They didn't talk again until Nevada.

 

***

 

The deer were everywhere in the forest. He'd been expecting one, just like the picture and just like the police report attached with it, but this was something much bigger. Beginning at the edge of the woods where the road turned from pavement to gravel they began to mark the path. One every fifteen feet, stomach turned open and entrails spilling out. Then it was one every ten feet, then dead birds and dead rabbits thrown in with them. By the time the old house came into view Derek could barely focus on the burned out shell before him. He expected to feel grief coming back here, but this was much worse, a deep sense of foreboding and suspended reality like they’d stepped into a dream.

On the wraparound porch lay a cougar, spread out on its belly like a pelt, with a spiral cut into its forehead. Laura gripped the handle of the door like she was trying to hold it closed with all of her strength and the plastic creaked under her hand.

Derek cleared his throat and shut his eyes for a moment.

“So...that bad feeling was...accurate.”

“We should get out and get a closer look,” she said, “We should clean up too, before the parks department finds this and freaks out.”

Neither of them moved from their seats. In the distant treeline something shifted, covered in just enough shadows to hide it’s shape.

“Laura what’s--”

“Shh!” she reached out and grabbed his arm. The ends of her fingers stayed blunt where they dug into his skin but when he looked over he saw her teeth lengthening and sharpening, and her cheekbones pushing forward under her skin.

“Alpha?”

“Stay put,”  she said, voice full of command, and Derek’s muscles turned to lead in response, “I will go see who it is. You do not follow me.”

“We should just leave, Laura, please, you can’t get hurt.”

“This is my territory and my responsibility.”

She let go of him and wrenched the door open and he pushed against his instincts to fumble with his own handle. She made her way across the front yard before he managed to force himself out of the car.

“So am I!” he shouted, “This doesn’t feel right, and you know it doesn’t. Now is not the time to start acting like some cocksure alpha warrior.”

She stopped mid stride, pants wet from the dew soaked grass, and looked back over her shoulder. Her face was completely shifted now, nose drawn out like a snout and teeth too long for her lips to cover.

“Please, alpha, don’t. Let’s just go to the motel, we can call someone. An emissary or another pack or... _ someone _ , okay?”

He took a step towards her, the pull of her command lessening as she let her shoulders slump and her eyes burn.

“It’s just you and me left.”

She turned around and walked back to the car.


	2. Chapter 2

The thing about Adderall is, it’s easy to underestimate. You take it every day, on an empty stomach, and then head for a shower and forget about it. The first week, and then the first month, are astonishing. The frazzled tangle of yarn in your brain unknots itself. You can focus. You can take a thought or task to it’s end. It’s amazing.

But then, the second and third and fourth month, and eventually the second or third or fourth year, it fades. Becomes background radiation. You start to think of it like vitamins, or worse, like an energy bar. Just something small and harmless that you don’t have to ever worry about.

When Stiles got his first bottle of pills, it came with a pamphlet. He read it, dying for stimulation in the doctor’s office while they waited to be dismissed, and thought he mostly understood it. No alcohol, no other stimulants, no double dosing.

At eighteen, years after the pamphlet had been thrown in the garbage, Stiles was doing all three.

The thing about Adderall is, eighteen year olds think that they’re immortal.

 

***

 

Stiles is intimately familiar with the sheriff's station by now. The coffee station, especially, features heavily in his childhood. Starting at twelve, he was often parked in the padded pleather chair in plain view of every deputy on shift to do his homework. He felt a little like an exhibit at times: observe the juvenile delinquent in his natural habitat. Realistically, though, no one paid him any attention, made evident by his Thursday night. Sat in his chair, on his second pot of garbage coffee, reading the wikipedia page for vore. He doesn’t remember how he got here, but he knows he can’t stop. There’s still five tabs after this one, and he needs to finish.

He reached for the carafe one more time, and his hand bumped into hot skin. When it didn’t quite register, he tried again, getting more skin and a ruffled “hey”, before he finally looked up.

Derek Hale. The same Derek Hale he’d spent a not inconsiderable amount of his middle school career staring at across the shared athletics field. He’d seemed like a giant then, tall and fast and bright, but now it was more. From his face to his new muscular stature, this Derek Hale was carved out of stone.

“What, am I not allowed to get coffee?”

“I--no, sorry man, go ahead,” Stiles shifted his laptop further up on his lap and tucked both hands under his knees. He felt frozen, like his brain had just stopped in Derek’s presence and he couldn’t figure out how to get it going again.

Derek kept one eye on him as he poured a cup and doctored it with cream and splenda, and then turned and cocked a hip against the table.

“I know you.”

“Huh? Um. Yeah, probably, I’ve lived here my whole life and Beacon Hills is kind of a nowhere town so... you’re Derek.”

He raised an eyebrow.

“Sure am. Who are you?”

Stiles ran a hand along the back of his head. How the fuck could this guy not recognize the sheriff’s kid? He knew for a fact Derek had spent the few weeks after the fire handling paperwork with his sister in their interrogation room. Then again, he’d been younger. Maybe he shouldn’t look a gift horse in the mouth.

He spat out the first name his brain provided.

“Miguel.”

Derek smirked a little, “Hay alguna razón por la que no estás en uniforme, Miguel?”

“Uhhhh, yeah, I don’t know what you said.”

“My parents made me learn,” Derek shrugged, “but not every family does. Did you just get off shift?”

“Wha--I, uh,” Stiles clamped down on his mouth. Okay, Derek thought he was a deputy. Could he use this for something? This felt like an opportunity for  _ something  _ but his brain was whirring too fast to process, “Yeah, just finishing up some reports before I head out.”

“Derek! They need your statement now!” a woman’s voice rang out from the back hallways and Stiles peaked around the coffee station to see another face he hadn’t seen in years. Laura Hale, six foot two of terrifying beauty and almost black eyes directed at her brother, “We don’t have time for you to wander.”

“I’m twenty one, not a child. I don’t ‘wander’.”

He crooked his fingers into air quotes.

Laura snorted, and gestured for him to follow before disappearing. Derek rolled his eyes but grabbed a sharpie from his jacket pocket and took hold of Stiles’ hand.

“If you’ve got a day off sometime soon, I’ll be in town for a little while,” he said, eyes focused on his writing. Stiles just gaped.

He recapped the pen, winked, and stalked off with his coffee in hand. Stiles stared down at the phone number inked into his skin.

 

***

 

Scott was still awake when Stiles tumbled in his window and onto his bed.

He ended up sprawled half on the floor, his heart beating a hundred miles an hour and eyes wide, and Scott clutching his own chest in shock. Melissa called up from below and Scott shouted back an assurance, but Stiles was still trapped in vertigo.

“Dude, what the fuck?”

“Dude, I…” he held up a hand and made a real effort to catch his breath.

“What’s written on your hand dude?”

He tipped it toward himself and felt the same thrill wash back over him.

“Dude, that’s Derek Hale’s phone number,” he shifted onto his stomach, then his knees, “I need advice.”

“Who’s Derek Hale?”

“Dude!” he shouted, “He was like a couple years older than us, played like every sport, huge family? Then his house burned down and the surviving Hales all moved to god knows where. Then, today, he shows up at the police station for god knows why and he hit on me! I think. I don’t know, what does that even look like when a guy hits on you?”

Scott threw his hands up, but shifted away from his own homework.

“Why would I know that?”

“One of us has to know, because I don’t know what I’m supposed to do now?”

“I mean…” Scott tipped his head to the side and considered him, “Do you want to date him? He’s not Lydia. Or, like, a girl.”

“I don’t know! I mean, beggars can’t really be choosers, you know, and you and me are totally beggars, let’s all be honest. But maybe we’re not, because man he’s so out of my league it’s hysterical and he gave me his number after like two minutes of really awkward stuttering and what does that say about me and my appeal? Do I actually have appeal? Dude, Scott, am I attractive to gay guys?”

He blinked, processing, and then just asked, “How much adderall have you had today?”

“I dunno. Some. Plus coffee. You didn’t answer my question, am I attracted to gay guys?”

He sighed, “I don’t know man, you’d have to ask a gay guy. But if you want to date this gay guy, seems like you got a green light. And, by the way, if this is you coming out to me, it’s a really terrible method.”

Stiles huffed, offended, and leaned back against the bed.

“What? Dude, I’m not gay.”

“You’re something if you want to date some hot jock guy.”

“Well, no. I mean, anyone would jump on this opportunity, wouldn’t they? I still like girls, but he’s really hot, and it’s a date you know? Who would turn that down?”

Scott gestured broadly at himself and tried to tamp down a smile.

“What? No you wouldn’t.”

“Yeah, dude, I would. Because I’m straight. And it’s totally fine, but I think you might be something other than straight.”

“But, I like girls,” he tried weakly. He was still overclocked, but the defense was starting to sound thin even to his own ears.

Scott shrugged again and turned back to his textbook, “Google it or something, you’re good at finding answers.”


	3. Chapter 3

It was traditional in older packs for the emissary’s identity to remain secret, often only known by the current alpha. Laura hadn’t had time to learn about him from her mother before the fire, but as it turned out he was still very much keeping tabs on the surviving Hales. When they finally left the police station and arrived at their motel, Alan Deaton, the local veterinarian, was sitting in one of the ugly chairs by the door and pushing a ball of mountain ash around in the air, just a few inches above his hand.

Earlier in his life Derek might have been impressed by the display of magical ability. At this point he’d spent too much time in New York to put any stock into what looked like a sales tactic. It was up to Laura whether or not she kept him as Hale emissary, and while they knew just how desperate they were for information there was a solid chance Deaton didn’t. He was trying to show his value.

Laura fell naturally into what she called her “alpha stance”, legs wide and back straight like a soldier in parade rest. Derek tried not to snicker as memories of her pacing around the family library as a child with a book on her head flickered into his mind.

“I didn’t know the concierge service was so hands on here.”

“I can’t say I work by the hour, exactly, but I am here to provide a service,” he leaned over to the short table beside him, leisurely, like he had all the time in the world, and picked up a what looked like an empty spice jar. Moving his hands like water he directed the ash into it through the small holes and then clicked the cap closed to contain it.

“Laura Hale, Alpha of the Hale Pack,” his sister said, inclining her head but not offering her hand, “I take it you knew my mother.”

“I did,” he nodded in return and then stood, tucking his hands behind his back, “And it would seem Beacon Hills is finally awakening if both members of the pack are back permanently.”

“Who says we’re staying--” Derek started, but Laura cut him off, snapping once and pointing to the ground. He cast his eyes down and stayed quiet.

.”The trees know your intentions better than you do, it seems. Would you like to accept assistance, Alpha Hale?”

Laura locked eyes with the veterinarian. Derek glanced around the room, wanting to escape the tension but knowing his way was blocked. Finally, after what must have been five actual minutes of silence, she nodded and Deaton inclined his head in return.

“There’s a rogue wolf in town,” he said, “I’m sure you’re aware. But the wards I have up around the town’s border never registered a new arrival until you two stepped over the line, which means whoever is doing this has been living in this town for a long time.”

“I presume you have a list of local wolves in Beacon Hills.”

His face turned grave and he made no move for the bag at his feet.

“Only the one.”

 

***

 

“Maybe Deaton’s just crazy,” Derek offered, once they were alone and could both relax. Laura was starfished on the ugly bedspread, and he sat by the headboard, fingers combing through her hair.

“Or maybe Peter’s being controlled by someone,” she said, “Another druid, or a witch maybe.”

“It’s just...he’s in a coma. What good is he to anyone in a coma?”

“I don’t know. I’ve never heard of another wolf in a coma. He’s already in a pretty impossible situation.”

She pressed her fingers against her eyes like they hurt and let out a groan.

“God, the last few days have been too fucking much. I do not have the energy for this.”

He leaned down and kissed her forehead, “I can go make myself scarce if you want to take a long bath, or yell at some birds, or whatever.”

“Oh, I bet,” she snorted, “I saw you looking around the police station like it was a buffet table. I bet you already have a few people lined up to occupy your time.”

He swatted at her shoulder and she managed a smile in reply.

“Actually, though, I think that’s a good plan. I need to just not be around people for a little while.”

Derek nodded and slid off the bed. They’d passed a club on their way into town and, at the very least, he could be in a crowd and feed off that energy. Him and Laura had always been opposites, even after the fire made them close ranks. She wanted solitude even at the best of times. But Derek? Well, Derek got lonely. He was extroverted, needed people around, even if sometimes he was surly and short with them or slow to trust. He was feeling just as run down as his sister, and he knew a packed room would be just the thing to bring him back to center.

His phone buzzed against his hip as he waited by the motel’s front sign for a cab. When he fished it out an unknown number stared back at him, nothing attached to it besides “hey”.

 

**_Derek:_ ** _ Don’t recognize your #. Who is this? _

 

**_+5301036845:_ ** _ miguel from the station. didn’t feel like waiting 3 days… _

 

Derek huffed a laugh and keyed in the name. The deputy had been gorgeous, if a bit young in the face. Probably joined right out of high school. But hell, Derek was young too and according to Laura everyone under twenty five looks like an infant so who was he to judge?

 

**_Derek:_ ** _ Glad you didn’t wait. I’m headed out dancing, you want to come along? _

 

**_Miguel:_ ** _ dude yeah totally _

 

**_Miguel:_ ** _ when + where? _

 

**_Derek:_ ** _  Do you know that place Jungle? _

 

***

 

Jungle was a lot less sophisticated than a lot of clubs he’d been to in New York. Effectively just a converted warehouse, complete with loading docks welded shut and thirty foot ceilings, but no booths or tables or quiet back corridors for people to go with their conquests. The result was just a vast pit of bodies with a bar in the middle, all heat and dark and straying hands. He had no idea how he was going to find Miguel in all this mess, but whiskey was as good a place to start as any. He pushed towards the center, nudging people a little rudely in order to make a path.

He had to lean half his body over the bar to catch the bartender’s eye.

“Can I get a Southern Baptist?”

“Well,” a voice said in his ear, “the best I can do for you is Reform Judaism. And even then…”

A glance over his shoulder showed Miguel nursing something dark in a highball glass and looking markedly less confident than his voice suggested.

Derek passed a five to the bartender and accepted his glass before sinking down into the next stool over.

“Jewish and latino is a weird combination.”

Miguel tensed and looked down into his glass, “I mean, it’s not common or anything but...you know, you can be both.”

Derek cringed and turned into his space, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it like that.”

He smiled but Derek swiped a hand down his face all the same.

“I’m an asshole.”

“It’s fine. I just...I guess I’m nervous. This is my first date with a guy and I’m sort of waiting for something to go pear shaped.”

His hands were tight around his glass and he took a long pull of whatever it was. Derek’s eyes strayed down to the movement of his throat, and then his clavicle. He hadn’t dressed up much, mostly just lost the overshirt he’d been in before. But it suited him and Derek appreciated that he hadn’t felt the need to go over the top with neon like some people preferred.

“Wait, your first ever?”

He shrugged again, a smirk playing around his lips.

“I doubt I’m the first person you ever kicked into a sexuality crisis.”

“Short crisis,” Derek said. Despite what Miguel thought this was a first one, and he felt distinctly off kilter, “So what did you decide on?”

Miguel grinned at that.

“Bisexual.”

Steeling his nerve, he knocked back his rye whiskey and lime juice and offered Miguel a hand.

“Want to dance?”

“Hell yeah.”


	4. Chapter 4

“Are you fucking kidding me?”

Stiles groaned and burrowed further under the covers. Whoever was talking could go fuck themselves, he was not moving. He might not have convinced the bartender with his fake ID but he still felt something close to hungover, coming down as he was from a bunch of stimulants and dehydrated as all fuck from the previous night’s activities. The mattress dipped as his bedmate sat up and a draft took his place along Stiles’ side.

He wasn’t a virgin anymore, he mused and smiled against the pillow.

“Dammit, Laura, it’s like six.”

“Yeah,” the disembodied voice was accompanied by a slap against the nightstand, “And I got a fantastic wake-up call when the office opened about the new room I rented. If I’m awake, you’re awake.”

Derek sighed.

“What’s the big deal? It’s not like we don’t have the money, and I wasn’t going to bring him back to the room we share,” he groaned, “And now I sound like a married asshole. Goddamit. Miguel, I know you’re awake, could you sit up maybe? I swear I’m not married.”

Had he been in greater possession of his faculties, he might have seen it coming. After all, Derek blanking on his face and name had been the one in a million chance, he knew that from the moment it happened. As far as everyone else in this town, he was practically a public figure. Still, he was tired and stressed and just wanted to do whatever it took to be allowed to sleep again, so he threw back the blanket and sat up. The light from the window pouring into his eyes without mercy.

Laura shrieked and Derek instinctively put an arm up to protect Stiles.

“What the fuck are you doing with the sheriff’s kid, Derek?!”

“What?” he tilted his head in confusion, looking for all the world like a big spiky haired puppy, “Miguel is a deputy. What are you--”

“In all fairness,” god his voice sounded like shit, “I never explicitly said that.”

Derek gaped at him and Laura looked a little bit sick where she stood, now five feet away.

“Yes, you fucking did.”

“No, I just...went along with an assumption you’d already made.”

“You gave a fake fucking name. Or...did he?”

Laura nodded, “His name is Stiles.”

He groaned and rubbed his hands across his face.

“Look, I know it was a dick move. But you were really hot, and being the sheriff’s kid is the kiss of death for most of my social life, I guess I just figured this was a chance to just meet someone without all that baggage.”

The two siblings stared him down, and Laura sunk down onto the ottoman at the foot of the bed.

“And I wasn’t kidding about the sexuality crisis,” he added, and Derek swatted at his arm.

“Are you even eighteen?” Laura’s voice was measured but Stiles could tell she was jumping to the worst possible outcomes in her head. Derek went white as a sheet next to him.

“Yes, I’m legal. Just...Jesus, fine, I’ll leave. Let you guys get back to whatever domestic you were about to have.”

“She’s not my wife.”

Derek sounded timid, still, but he snagged Stiles’ wrist before he could get out of the bed and held fast. Stiles nodded, a bit confused.

“I know. She’s your sister. I recognized you guys right away, you’re the Hales. Derek and Laura, and I think there was one more survivor on the report.”

“You looked up our police file?” Laura’s eyebrows climbed towards her hairline.

“Not, like, recently,” he huffed, “I just spend a lot of time at the station and getting details out of my dad. I was listening to the scanner that night when it happened, although I don’t remember all the details.”

He wasn’t sure what to add after that and it seemed neither was anyone else in the room. Laura’s shoulders weighed down and she rubbed absently at the bedspread, and Derek stared at his free hand, curled up in his lap.

Finally Laura broke the silence with a sigh.

“Look, if nothing illegal is going on here, that’s fine. But Derek, we really don’t have time to be spending pissing off the locals because of where you stuck your dick.”

“ _ Excuse me? _ ” Stiles started, but it seemed she wasn’t done.

“This isn’t like New York, you can’t just roll around doing whatever or whoever you feel like, especially with the sort of  _ families _ that live in this town.”

Derek glared at his sister and his thumb stroked Stiles wrist as he talked, pressing slightly into the pulse point.

“What, and the sheriff is a hunter now?”

“Derek!”

“What the fuck does hunting have to do with anything?” Stiles asked.

“You’re just so paranoid of everyone, and I can’t be like that!”

“You aren’t paranoid enough, Derek,” Laura shouted, “We still don’t even know who burned the house in the first place and you’re just fucking anyone, falling asleep next to them, letting down your guard--”

Stiles swung a hand out and smacked his fist against the wall. Both Hales startled at the sound and swivelled towards it, Laura looking angry and Derek just looking owlish.

“I don’t know what the fuck is going on with you two, but I don’t deserve this shit, okay? If I want to go on a date with someone and then fuck them in a Motel 6, I can do that. I don’t have to call his family and get permission first like some Dickension hero, and neither does he. Derek and I are both adults and you need to get the fuck out so I can talk him into breakfast and maybe a round of shower sex like I am fucking entitled to do the morning after.”

“You can’t--”

“Oh, yes, I fucking can,” he pointed at the door and levelled a hard look at her, “Out.”

She hesitated, then, rocking forward as if to stand and then back as if to stay, but eventually she drew herself up and left the room, her departure marked only with the soft whoosh and click of the door closing.

“Did you just out-alpha my sister?” Derek was almost whispering, “Did that happen?”

Stiles rolled his eyes and flopped back on the pillows.

“Oh god, please don’t tell me you’re one of those dudebros who go around calling people ‘alpha’ and ‘beta’. Wolves don’t even work that way.”

 

***

 

The Beacon Hills cross country team was more of an exercise in vanity than anything else. They always came last in district competitions, a result of lax training and inconsistent terrain to practice on, but that wasn’t really the point. Lacrosse was the school’s big money-maker, and during the off season the star players needed some kind of regular aerobic exercise. So every Friday afternoon they’d gather at the edge of the preserve where it butted against school grounds and set off on their usual route.

Stiles was still feeling like hot garbage when he lined up with the others, only six hours after leaving the Hales and their two motel rooms, but he didn’t want to forfeit what slim chance he had at ever making first line. So he was here, sneakers on and red bull in hand. Finstock smacked it onto the grass as he strolled past, and blew his whistle to signal the start.

Despite the paper oak leaves adorning every the hallways and front windows, September wasn’t  _ really _ fall in northern California, and it only took twenty minutes before Stiles’ shirt was soaked through with sweat. A glance around told Stiles that most of the team was in the same position, including Isaac Lahey who had chosen to wear a sweatshirt for some godforsaken reason and was now listing towards the back of the group, dragging under the weight of the wet fabric.

It was hard to tell what was going on with that kid. His clothes seemed haphazard, chosen without any rhyme or reason, all different sizes and often torn or out of style. He was always there for practices, but never seemed a hundred percent present. And he was so skinny, Stiles sometimes just stared at his wrists from across the classroom, at the bird-like bones that moved under the skin.

He’d heard rumors, of course, around the station. That his dad was an asshole, that CPS hadn’t been able to prove anything. But he’d heard rumors about a lot of families, including the Boyds and the Reyes’, and they couldn’t all be true.

Isaac slowed, and then stopped, his whole body propped on his knees as he tried to catch his breath.

Stiles heard the barest whisper of a growl before going around a curve in the trail and losing sight of the straggler. Then a scream broke out through the trees, high and long, and everyone on the team skidded and stumbled to a stop.

By the time they’d returned, Isaac was as white as a sheet, and the mud underneath his hips was a reddish brown.


	5. Chapter 5

“I don’t know what got him, it’s nothing I’m familiar with. The bite radius is small compared to most local predators. Maybe something from a neighboring state, rabid or otherwise impaired, has found itself in our area.”

The sheriff nodded, and scribbled a few notes on the official incident report.

“Thank you, Doctor Deaton. We shouldn’t be needing anything else from you.”

The vet smiled, wanly, and drifted from the room without another word, and the sheriff was left a little unsettled by the whole interaction. Not for the first time. He had a theory that if he checked Deaton’s medicine cabinet he’d find an ungodly amount of xanax and valium, and maybe some actual tranquilizers. There was just no other way for a flesh and blood human being to respond to crime scene photos with such serenity, but every visit in the past few weeks had been just the same.

Down the hall a ruckus erupted, and he sighed and slid the file into his work bag by the door. Lahey was here, and that was not good.

He intercepted him, angry and pretty close to drunk, by the nurse’s station.

“Where’s my son?! What did you do to him?!”

“Mr Lahey, it’s me. It’s Noah,” he held out his hands and slid between him and the intake desk, “I need you to calm down. This is a hospital and you can’t shout like that.”

His eyes fixed on the sheriff and he could see the usual derision and disgust. The Lahey family weren’t much for the police. All the same, Kyle Lahey lowered his voice.

“Fuck if I can’t, I want to see my son.”

The sheriff shook his head, “He’s sleeping right now. With the extent of his injuries, he needs rest in order to heal. If you can calm down enough I can bring you to the waiting room, and then once he’s awake you can go in and see him.”

“Fuck you, I’m his father. You can’t keep me out of there.”

“Oh really?” the sheriff raised an eyebrow, “You know, I have my breathalyzer with me. Right here on my belt. I’m willing to bet you drove here, what do  _ you _ wanna bet that if you blow into it you’ll come up higher than the legal limit?”

Lahey deflated, a little, and stepped back from where he’d been puffing his chest up just centimeters from the sheriff’s.

“Just...what is happening?”

He grabbed a hold of Lahey’s sleeve, gently, and steered him in the direction of the waiting room. A few people milled around at the opposite end, by the vending machine, but he figured that was private enough.

“Your son was attacked by an animal. He went into shock almost immediately, so we don’t know what kind yet, but it happened during a school practice and they’re all in a tizzy trying to find out what happened and how it could’ve been prevented.”

Lahey scoffed, his mouth turned down into a cruel frown, “I know how it could’ve been prevented. I told that little bastard he shouldn’t go near Finstock’s team. All those animal attacks and they’re running in the fucking woods?”

He pulled his glasses off and ground his fingers into his eyes. Noah could feel a million questions bubbling up, but he stayed silent. Most of the time that was all it took.

“But then Isaac never was very bright and god forbid he ever listen. He wants to feel special by getting on the hotshit lacrosse team, he can do that. Then he can get hurt, and I’ll come bail him out and the whole thing’ll start again. I’m sick of being that boy’s keeper.”

The sheriff scoffed, “You seemed pretty eager to get to his bedside a minute ago.”

Lahey levelled him with a glare and crossed his arms over his chest.

“I’m not saying I don’t love my son, sheriff, but this place charges eighty bucks an aspirin and he’s in here for one thing or another every month. Him dicking around costs me money, and then he has the gall to throw himself right back into trouble.”

The sheriff sighed and leant back against the hard chair. If Lahey was just going to give him the usual sob story, he had better uses for his time. The first time it had happened he’d listened attentively, sure that he’d slip some detail and finally give him enough to get Isaac taken out of that shithole of a house, but Kyle was too careful for that.

A dark head appeared in the doorway and caught his eye, and he looked up to see Laura Hale signalling him. Fantastic. Another crisis, most likely. He waved back and then pulled out his phone and opened the text app. Parrish was around, he could make sure Lahey stayed out of Isaac’s room.

Right at the top, and bolded, was a new message from Stiles.

 

**_Stiles:_ ** _ u at hosp? i’ll be there in 5, LAX team signed card for isaac. love you. _

 

He sighed again and thumbed the message away, but a warmth settled in his chest. At least they’d get to see each other, even if he was stuck working late.

 

***

 

Laura chewed on a claw as she waited in the hall, a pile of lead sitting in her stomach. She hadn’t exactly wanted any more deaths because of the rogue alpha but she certainly hadn’t expected, when it started attacking humans, that there would be any survivors. And now there was a new wolf in room 425, the smell of his blood stinking up the hallway, and she had to tell someone. The kid was a minor, she couldn’t just kidnap him, but she couldn’t ignore the risk he posed with that monster for an alpha. He needed to be trained, it wasn’t negotiable, and this was the only way to make that happen. She just hoped that the sheriff was as honorable as he always seemed, as Derek certainly believed him to be.

“Ms. Hale,” he said, coming around the corner at a trot, and a new deputy ducked past him to take his place in the waiting room, “What can I do for you?”

“It’s concerning Isaac Lahey and the attack in the woods. Can we speak privately?”

“Well, I’m afraid I can’t offer you much more information than I already have if that’s what you’re here to ask. We still haven’t pinned down a species, or where it might be bedding down.”

She smiled, “It’s more like I have information for you.”

He cocked an eyebrow at her but nodded towards the stairwell. Once they were inside, he settled against the railing with his arms folded, seemingly content to sit in silence.

“This is not information I share lightly, sheriff, so I hope you will keep it in confidence. Please, don’t scream.”

Before he could respond she relaxed her muscles and let her fangs drop and eyes bleed red. The thrum of electricity that always sat under her skin surfaced, and when he forced a fist against his mouth to keep quiet a thrill ran through her at the obedience. After a moment, she tugged her bones back into place and felt her features settle into something human.

The sheriff cleared his throat and stepped back, his stance drifting open as his hand found his gun and he got ready for a fight.

“You mind telling me what the fuck that was.”

“I’m a werewolf. So is Derek. So is the thing in the woods killing animals,” she took a breath and broke his gaze, dropping her eyes to the floor, “and now so is Isaac Lahey.”

The sheriff blinked, rearing back at the information, before blurting, “Like Remus Lupin?”

For a second she just gaped at him, and then a bubble of laughter fought it’s way out of her mouth before she could stop it. Of all the goddamn things to jump to. At her snorting giggles he relaxed a little and she let some tension bleed out of her shoulders.

“Not exactly,” she snorted again, “In real life we can control it, the moon just makes us more impulsive and aggressive.”

“Right, cause this is real life,” he ran a hand along his temple and sagged against the railing, “What does aggressive mean, exactly? And why are you trusting me with this?”

“If Isaac has a pack around him, it just means he’ll be edgy. He’ll start a lot of stupid arguments, maybe break a few dishes, but that’s about it. Werewolves are a communal species, being in a pack is our natural state. We anchor each other so we can better handle the pull of the moon. On his own, though, he’ll be unpredictable and unstable, and right now the only person in his pack is the crazed alpha in the woods.”

His mouth formed soundless words for a few minutes, every new question passing across his face, and finally settled on, “Alpha?”

“Wolf packs are sorted into hierarchies. I’m Alpha Hale, which means I’m stronger than most wolves and can exert a certain amount of control over the wolves in my pack. It’s a supernatural spark, kind of like magic, that was passed down from my mother. I’m the head of the family. Derek is my beta, which is what most wolves are. And if you can help me talk to the boy’s father he could be my beta as well, and learn how to control his new instincts.”

He blew out through his teeth and glanced towards the door.

“I don’t know how much I can promise. He’s a real piece of work. But I think it’s a good idea for you to talk to Isaac before his dad gets in there.”

Laura nodded, and moved back out into the hallway, the sheriff at her heels. The same smell as before lingered in the air and she followed it at a clipped pace.

“I have to say, this is the calmest that anyone’s ever taken the news.”

He shrugged, “Don’t get me wrong, I’m going to go home and kill a bottle of jack by myself while I process all this crap, but if you say this kid is in trouble that’s the priority. Putting off my own panic until a more convenient time is sort of the core requirement of the job.”

“Hey! Daddio!”

Just before they reached the door Stiles and Derek rounded the corner, Derek’s face twisted up in confusion.

“Laura, what are you doing here?”

The sheriff raised his eyebrows at his son.

“Son. How do you know Derek Hale?” he narrowed his eyes, “Wait just a goddamn minute, are you a werewolf too?”

Stiles swiveled his head between all three of them, a fake smile frozen on his face.

“I...what?”

“Oh my god,” Laura buried her face in her hands.


	6. Chapter 6

“Sooooo,” Stiles said, “Werewolf?”

Derek sighed and fell back against the wall. His sister and the sheriff had slipped into the hospital room, no doubt to scare the shit out of that Isaac kid, and they’d been instructed to ‘watch the door’. At the moment, though, they were alone, nothing much to watch out for, and he couldn’t avoid answering.

“Yep.”

“Not to be the worst character in every horror movie but...I mean, I really don’t believe you. I’m basically only entertaining this because I know my dad’s not an idiot and he seems to be on board so--”

Derek glanced up and down the hallway, and then held a hand in front of Stiles’ face and pushed his claws through the surface, cutting off his rambling at the knees.

“I...those…”

“Yeah,” he moved to pull his hand back, but Stiles caught it and pulled it closer, running a finger along each one up to the sharp tip. A spot of blood bloomed where their fingertips touched and Stiles stared, a complicated look screwing up his face.

Derek’s gut soured at the sight of it, but he felt frozen. He couldn’t sooner pull his hand back than he could float up through the ceiling and away from this whole mess. He’d told only a few people in his life about his secret and it had never ended well, even when the woman in question had an agenda that would have been served by acting the part. He was disgusting, he knew it, everyone knew it, so what was taking so long?

“Oh my god,” he breathed, “You’re not lying. Which makes you and your sister, like, the protectors of Beacon Hills, right?”

“What?” Derek’s voice was impossibly small when it came out and he stared at Stiles owlishly.

“I mean, I haven’t ever had a reason to read about werewolves--one hundred percent doing that when I get home, by the way--but you guys came back into town because some  _ thing _ out in the forest was going on a killing spree. You started working with the sheriff. Following up with the victims. You can….shift, or whatever, at will. You’re probably pretty strong. And the Hales have been here for god knows how long before...everything happened to you. So you guys are the guardians here, right?”

Derek just stared, feeling like all his strings had been cut. The boy in front of him glanced up, and his brows knit together in confusion when he didn’t get a reply.

“Was I not supposed to guess it? I mean, it’s probably supposed to be a secret, but you’re the one who pulled these out,” he lifted Derek’s hand and waved it around between them, claws still on full display.

“I...we just live here,” he offered, finally, although he wasn’t even sure himself what he was responding to, “We’re  _ wolves _ , Stiles. Is this how you...wolves aren’t the protectors in any story.”

He snorted and finally dropped his hand, jostling Derek with his shoulder instead.

“Please. You know how there’s no wolves in California? Or,” he shrugged, “I guess there are. But, like, timber wolves. They’re gone, and it’s not because they decided to move to Brooklyn in a group. Ranchers killed them all off because it was easier than building better defenses for livestock. Now our ecology is all fucked up without predators and the fish and wildlife people have been working their asses off trying to keep populations in check. The wolves were never the problem.”

He slumped against Derek’s side fully, and skated a hand up and down his leg where they were pressed together.

“You’re going to have to tell me about the moon, though. Full disclosure, you know, if we’re going to be dating.”

“Dating?” He didn’t know his voice could get that high.

Stiles stiffened beside him. When his voice came out it was cool and measured but Derek could feel his pulse stuttering at every point of contact.

“Well, I thought today was a date. If I was wrong…”

“I just,” fuck, how could he have fucked this up already, “I haven’t dated anyone in a long time and I hadn’t...I hadn’t considered it as an option.”

“And now that you’re considering it?” His voice was frigid now, and how awful was it that a high school senior already knew how to brace for impact like this?

Derek held his tongue, for a moment, and let himself imagine it. After the fire he’d thrown himself into warm bodies and faceless strangers almost as soon as they’d left the city limits. At first in the sketchiest places imaginable, the sort that didn’t even pretend to care about ID, and later in more discerning venues. He’d told himself he didn’t need anything else, that it fulfilled everything he needed it to without any of the risk of caring about someone, but he wasn’t sure he’d ever really believed it.

And Stiles was right, wasn’t he? They’d hardly left one another’s sides since they’d met in the station. A few hours for Stiles’ classes, then they’d met for lunch. A few more for final periods, then Stiles had tumbled into his Camaro outside the school’s doors and joked about Derek ‘compensating’ and they’d headed out. No goal in mind, no destination. The hospital, eventually, but until then they’d just...existed. Near each other. It had felt so normal Derek hadn’t noticed that it really really wasn’t, not for him.

Maybe it could be.

“Yeah,” he nodded, slowly, “Let’s date.”

Stiles nodded and took his hand again, heart slowing back to a steady pace.

 

***

 

Two more students were attacked before they finally shut the school, including an epileptic girl whose parents were rabid. Laura had floated around the periphery of the investigation, offering what help she could, but the sheriff couldn’t pull her into his office too often without suspicion.

Mostly, she was on new werewolf duty. Isaac had taken the news in stride and she could still remember his wide grin at learning how strong he would be. Erica Reyes would be complicated, and she was putting that off until the end. Laura hoped her family would focus on the health aspect but...god, it was so hard to tell.

Vernon Boyd seemed like the easier conversation to have, and she slipped into his hospital room within an hour of the attack. He was alone, eyes closed as he pretended to sleep, and she settled in the chair by the side of his bed while she decided where to start.

“I know you’re awake,” she said finally.

“No, you don’t,” he grumbled, “You guessed.”

“I can hear your heart. Once that bite fully settles and heals, you’ll be able to hear mine too. We need to talk.”

His eyes flew open and he turned to stare at her, incredulity written all over his face.

“I was hoping your parents would be here for the talk, though. Do you know when they’ll be here?”

He huffed, but settled back against his pillows, “They won’t. Both of them are working, they already called the hospital to say I can check myself out once they’re done stitching me up. Good luck trying to get a hold of them either.”

“Right…” she made a note to check with the nurse’s station on her way out, maybe see what they knew about the home situation. She wanted to be angrier, and she would be, but a part of her recognized that she just didn’t have the time right now, “Well then, I’ll get to it. Hold out your hand, please.”

He scowled but did as instructed.

“Now, breathe. Try and let yourself relax, starting at your fingertips and moving up your arm. Let your muscles go loose. Do you feel sort of energetic? Charged?”

He grunted his assent.

“Focus on letting that feeling come to the surface. Don’t force it, just let it happen.”

He took in a deep breathe and his eyes drifted closed. His fingers started to recede as the claws rose from within them, and the ridge of his brow pushed forward into the half-snout of a beta shift, but it wasn’t until his fangs pressed against his lips and drew blood that he opened his eyes to look.

In front of his face the claws were still in motion, moving up towards the ceiling as they settled into place.

“What the fuck,” he whispered, and then shot a look at Laura.

“Werewolf,” she offered, and let her eyes glow red, “You were bitten. If we can get your parents to agree, I’d like you to be in my pack.”

“Pack?” his voice was so quiet she knew she wouldn’t be able to hear it if she were human.

“I’m the alpha, and there’s also my brother Derek, and two kids from your school, Isaac Lahey and Erica Reyes. Wolves do best in groups, and it will make the full moons easier if you’re surrounded by people like you.”

He shifted his gaze to his hand, and back to Laura, his jaw working as he thought.

“Would I live with you? I’d like--” he cleared his throat, “I’d like to live with you.”

Laura’s eyebrows shot towards her hairline.

“You think your parents would be okay with that? Packs typically live together, but I had no plans to take you away from your family.”

He snorted and twisted his hand in front of his face, looking at every angle.

“I doubt they’d notice. I haven’t seen them in like five days. Always working, and when they’re home...it’s a big house, you know? They just stock the fridge with food, sometimes. I don’t really...they won’t really care.”

She would definitely be checking with the nurses. Maybe CPS. For now, though…

“Well at the moment my brother and I are staying in a motel. Just got to Beacon Hills this week. But we were thinking of buying a house, and if you’re a part of the pack you should have input too. Would you like to come with us, once you’re discharged?”

A smile spread across his face and he nodded slightly.

“Yeah. I would.”


	7. Chapter 7

It had been the sheriff’s idea to call a town meeting, and ten minutes in he was already regretting it. People deserved to know what was going on, or an edited version anyway. They deserved to feel safe. But the panic that was already clinging to each person was magnified in a group, and the shouting had started as soon as he’d taken his seat at the front.

After a few minutes trying to shout louder, get someone’s attention, he glanced at where his son sat in the front row. Stiles rolled his eyes and hefted himself out of his chair to stalk over to the light switches. He flashed them a few times, earning confused noises from the crowd, and the flipped them all back on when everyone was staring in his direction.

“You assholes want to be productive or just loud?”

“Thank you Stiles. Don’t swear in public.”

He tipped his head and sat back down, threading a hand through Derek’s beside him.

“Okay. I know you have questions, and I will answer them, but first you need to let me talk. So far there have been three attacks on humans and countless attacks on animals. Our original theory was a mountain lion or other large predator, maybe one displaced from its usual hunting grounds, but from the testimony of the victims it would seem that the perpetrator was human.”

Murmurs flooded through the room, threatening to rise to previous volumes, and he held out his hands in an attempt to hold it back.

“Now, we have a description, and we’ll be circulating that, but in the meantime we have instituted a curfew and a mandatory ban on entering the preserve or any surrounding woods. Whoever this asshole is, he’s not attacking city centers yet, preferring to do his dirty work under tree cover, further away from anyone who might hear the attack, so don’t go anywhere isolated.”

“What about the teeth marks?” a woman near the back shouted. The librarian, he thought, Janet something.

“He appears to have constructed a mask, of sorts, out of animal parts. We don’t know if salvaging those parts was his reason for killing the local wildlife, but it is a part of his M.O. and seems important to him.”

He glanced at Derek, whose face was set in stone. They’d all gathered at the Stilinski household the night before, including at least one of the new betas, and hammered out the details for describing Peter. Laura was staked out outside the long term care home, waiting for her uncle to return from his latest romp, but they couldn’t guarantee she’d be able to catch him and put him down, and Noah had insisted that the public be warned in some capacity. Even if it scared them.

“Are you sure?” Janet something piped up again. She was pushing her way to the front now, her eyes hard and steady. “Because I’ve been hearing an awful lot about wolves lately. How can we know it isn’t some monster?”

Oh god. Janet Reyes. That was her name. Near the back of the crowd her daughter shrunk in on herself, hair falling over her face.

“My daughter, especially, has been telling me a lot of stories about monsters, and how you are in league with them. I knew she wasn’t sick, those medicines you all forced me to give her! This is something satanic and I won’t be quiet anymore!” She twisted around to the people behind her. “You all have to see it! The beast out there isn’t some man! He’s a demon, a demon wolf, and the police are trying to feed us all to it! They’ve been trying to take my Erica for years, making me bring her to doctors who sterilize her and tranquilize her, you have to see it! You just have to!”

With every minute she was ratcheting up in intensity. The sheriff scanned the room to see a few dozen slack jawed faces and at least one teenager holding his phone up to record. He took a breath and stepped forward, nodding at the deputies near the exits.

“Mrs Reyes, I assure you, there is no demon wolf--”

“There is! There is, and you’re helping him! Who know what he’s convinced you to do, he’s already convinced you to push your son into perversion and sin.”

She cast an arm towards Stiles where he sat with Derek and he could see the mirth his son was barely restraining. He tried to beg, silently, for him to keep whatever smartass remark he had brewing to himself but before either of them could win their fight she lunged for Stiles and one of the deputies, a burly kid named Evans, stepped out of the crowd and caught her around the waist. He hoisted her back and pinned her elbows behind her back and, in an otherwise silent room, her shouts descended into gibberish.

“Alright,” he said, addressing the crowd again, “Well, it looks like we have to deal with Mrs Reyes, are there any questions before we cut this short?”

A few murmurs floated around the room but no one spoke up and when he nodded they filed out of the room in groups of three and four. Like Mrs Reyes had condensed down all their fears and left them each calmer as a result. He supposed she had.

Derek caught his eye and gestured towards Erica where she was still leaned against the wall, her head down. The sheriff nodded and he made his way over, leaving Stiles and the sheriff alone.

“So, perversion and sin, huh?” the sheriff asked, holding down a smirk of his own.

“Oh, absolutely,” Stiles said, “All the kids are doing it these days. Virgin sacrifices are very  _ in _ .”

“About that. I haven’t hassled you about this yet. Just don’t have the brainpower. But do I need to worry about you and that Hale boy?”

Stiles smiled, a bright and private thing, and that more than anything eased some of the tension in Noah’s chest.

“No. He’s really great and respectful.”

“He’s quite a bit older than you.”

Stiles snorted, “No, he’s quite a bit less baby-faced. He’s only twenty one.”

The sheriff raised his eyebrows and flicked his gaze over at the wolf where he was comforting the younger girl.

“Shit, I would not have guessed that. Although I guess it hasn’t been that long since the fire, has it?”

“No,” Stiles scowled, “It really hasn’t.”

He hummed, but let the subject drop. After few beats, though, he chuckled.

“Never would’ve pegged you as gay though. Not dressed like that.”

When he looked over, Stiles was beet red, and he took a moment to enjoy the visceral pleasure of managing to embarrass your offspring. Stiles set his jaw, annoyance pouring off him.

“Bisexual. And my pride flag speedo is at the cleaners right now, sorry to be out of uniform.”

“That’s not what I meant--”

“I don’t think I want to know what you meant,” he snipped, and the sheriff sighed.

“I love you Stiles. I do. I’ll try not to say things that upset you because I really don’t care who you date or fall in love with. But try and be a little patient. You’re the first gay person I’ve met in person--or, I guess the second after Derek. Northern California isn’t exactly the most liberal place in the world.”

“Bisexual,” he corrected, but the stiff line of his shoulders loosened a little and he offered up a smile, “And I can be patient. Just...if I ever catch you watching Queer Eye for the Straight Guy…”

“Son, you couldn’t pay me a million dollars to watch that show.”

“I’m serious, dad. I know I got my research skills from you, which means I know you’re going to find the worst sources first. No Queer Eye, no Brokeback Mountain, no Will and Grace--”

“You like Will and Grace.”

“I am never going to act like Jack, and I don’t need you getting weird expectations.”

“Okay,” he offered his hands up in surrender, “You’re not Jack.”

His son huffed, “Damn right.”


	8. Chapter 8

The parking lot was deserted except for an old Hyundai by the service entrance. Laura had scaled the wall easily, and perched on the edge of the roof, watching for hours now. As soon as the first teenager was bitten she could smell her uncle, smell the pack bonds, and the death.

But, somehow, he was gone. Every time she visited his scent was fresh, like he was still visiting, keeping up the facade, but he was never there and the nurse attending his wing never gave her any more information than “we sent him for some scans”.

She was tired of searching. Eventually he’d come back, this seemed to be his den now, and she would end it.

Derek was distraught she knew, although he hid it well under the asshole veneer he built for himself each day like armor. To him Peter was still family, and some of the only family they still had. Laura, though, knew better. She wouldn’t let him ruin what was left of the Hales. Derek had been too young to see it, but Peter had always been off. Dangerous.

Somewhere past midnight she caught a flicker of movement at the edge of the lot and then, like a direct to dvd matrix sequel, there he was. Leather trenchcoat and all, strolling towards the doors like he couldn’t care less if the facility saw him awake and aware. Maybe he didn’t. A thought struck Laura like a bolt: maybe they knew. That one nurse, at least, but how many others?

She had to get him before he stepped inside, and any potential reinforcements could be called.

Laura crept closer to the gutter, her muscles coiled as she moved. Peter was halfway now, just fifteen more feet to the door. She took a deep breath, drew up to her full height, and with a last step she fell off the edge, dropping to the floor in front of him with a heavy thud. He startled, which sent a sharp little thrill of satisfaction up her spine and then she roared, full bellied and deafening into his face, and for a moment he quailed away.

“Laura,” slipped from his lips, and then his eyes flashed red and a howl bubbled up out of him, instincts kicking in at the blatant challenge from another alpha.

“Peter Hale. You have killed on my territory.”

“Laura,” it came out as a snarl this time, “You don’t understand.”

“You have threatened the population here. Your fate is at my discretion as the alpha, and I have chosen death. Do you submit?”

She advanced on him and he stepped back, the growls coming constantly, his fangs crowding his mouth. His skin bubbled as it shifted, twisting and tearing into something sick. Damaged.

“I was trying to avenge them, all of them! You don’t know, let me tell you!”

“Do you submit?”

“No, you insolent child, I was doing what you couldn't! I never ran away! I wanted to find those responsible--”

“ _ Do you submit? _ ” she was close now, only a few more inches and she knew she could wrap a hand around his throat, but he was cottoning on. Realizing he couldn’t talk his way out.

“You think you can put me down? I fought off death, I tracked them down, I killed the Demon Wolf!!”

And then she was there, toe to toe, and she sunk her claws into the place where his pulse pushed against his skin. He clutched at her sides, leaving deep gouges, but she pressed in harder until she felt his airway against her palm, felt it start to compress and give in. And then she held fast and pulled, rending it from his throat, and he stared at her wide eyed and moved his mouth like he was trying to gasp.

A wet sound came from somewhere in his chest and his arms locked up. He fell, dragging her down with him, and seized up, fighting to heal as best he could. She pushed her hands back into his throat, taking as much of the flesh as she could until she reached the bone, and finally she summoned her strength, took hold of the vertebrae there, and snapped.

He slumped backward, dead.

Her vision was swimming, the wounds along her ribs pouring blood and not healing, and she managed a weak howl for help before falling forward, into the mess, and blacking out.

 

***

 

In his room, a million books and printouts scattered around him and his skin buzzing and crawling with excess energy and adderall, Stiles suddenly heard a noise. A brief howl, maybe five blocks away. He glanced down at the page on his screen, cursor still blinking where he’d been adding to his notes.

“ _ Wolves howl to signal their position to the pack in times of distress. _ ”

He had his shoes on and keys in his hand before he’d even registered what he was doing.

 

***

 

There was one heartbeat in the parking lot, and three bodies. Derek had heard the howl across town and taken off at a run, but even with werewolf stamina he was panting hard as it came into view. Through the exhaustion only those numbers stood out.

The mess of blood and viscera had to be Peter and Derek fought at the nausea rolling over him like a wave. The dark haired woman on top of him was Laura, healing slowly, but still breathing. And five feet away, collapsed in a heap like a scarecrow and with a ringing silence in his chest, was Stiles.

He scrambled towards him, falling to his knees and pushing against his boyfriend’s face with his hands. The muscles were slack, gave easily, but he wasn’t cold. He wasn’t gone. He couldn’t be.

Derek was aware of wetness on his face, of gravel under his knees. To his right a soft groan hit his ears and when he looked Laura was pushing up onto her elbows, looking like she’d been hit by a train. Behind her, at the entrance to the lot, Boyd and Isaac were stalking towards them, claws out and stinking of adrenaline. He knew what he should do, what he would have done even three weeks ago. He knew he should stay. But he knew if he did he’d have no way to call an ambulance for Stiles and he wasn’t dead, he couldn’t be.

He fumbled his hands under Stiles' shoulders and knees, tilted him onto his back and then hefted him up, and took off towards the alley. He needed to get somewhere, anywhere with fewer bodies, and he needed a phone. He needed help.

 

***

 

Stiles died twice in the ambulance and was revived three times. Derek sat beside him, hands clenched into fists and eyes screwed shut, as he tried to breathe through the lack of control. He couldn’t lose it, not now, not when they were so close.

When they got there the sheriff dragged him away, strong even against Derek’s trembling muscles, and he collapsed against his shoulder.

“It’s okay. I’m so glad you found him, Derek, I’m  _ glad _ ,” he mumbled against Derek’s coat. “Let them do their work. I know it’s hard.”

Later, the doctor would read off a list of problems. Massive myocardial infarction. Tissue damage. Low fever. Insane blood pressure.

Even later, from his bed, Stiles would boil them down to one problem. Adderall. A lot of it, so he could finish his research.

And that night, with Derek slumped against his side, Laura would burst into the room, unsteady on her feet and full of fire, and Stiles wouldn’t be able to do much more than cringe in reply.


	9. Chapter 9

“This isn’t your decision. If you want to be with Derek, with  _ us _ , this cannot be something you feel free to do to yourself.”

He stared at his hands, a knot in his throat and his eyes full of tears. He didn’t argue back.

“You two idiots are just the same person twice, I swear, but I can’t worry about losing you to drugs or strangers in bars or whatever else you decide to throw at yourselves.”

She glared at Derek too, but he wasn’t listening, wrapped up as he was against the side of the bed. He traced a hand along Stiles’ side, up to his collar and back down again, over and over, just checking that he was still solid. His heart still making noise.

She sighed.

“We stumbled through this shit, do you realize that? I know it feels like we made a plan and assembled into Voltron or whatever, but we got so lucky so many times and I cannot figure out how to express to you that it is not like this all the time. Most of your life is going to be heart attacks if you keep acting like this, and most of Derek’s,” she gestured vaguely at her brother, “is going to be syphilis.”

“Not anymore,” Derek said, his voice quiet.

“Excuse me?”

“I...when I thought he was going to die, I...it made some things clear. I don’t have any plans to see anyone else after this. If that’s okay,” he hedged, and glanced up at Stiles where a soft smile was spreading across his face.

“Of course it’s okay. I’m pretty fond of you too, dude.”

He scowled but there was no heat behind it.

“Don’t call me dude.”

Laura rolled her eyes but sunk down into a chair.

“Just don’t fuck up again, that’s all I’m asking. You’re not immortal.”

 

***

 

The new house on Pine and Willowfare was massive. They had at least four extra rooms, but after everything that had happened Laura finally felt like there was room to hope for something bigger. To rebuild.

Derek slunk by with a few boxes and she smirked when she saw the books on top. Those were Stiles’, which meant they were up to the having-his-own-shelf phase. She let it pass without comment and headed for the truck. She could make fun of him later.

Boyd sorted boxes near the back, making piles for them to take, and hummed to himself.

“So, I was thinking. Erica is going to be going into foster care soon, and the sheriff says there’s not a lot he can do to stop that process.”

Boyd’s shoulders tensed and his brow drew down. He’d clicked into the pack easily, accepting the affection and closeness that came with his new instincts. Seemingly starved for it. And in the same hand, he seemed constantly terrified of it being taken away, especially after his parents agreed to let him move out after just ten minutes of knowing Laura.

“But he said he can influence where she goes. So I was thinking that, with a house this size, maybe we could open a group home. Take in Erica, and Isaac. Maybe see if there’s any others out there that really need a home. Pack.”

He nodded, but didn’t look up. His throat sounded thick when he spoke.

“Sounds like a plan.”

“Alright then. You picked which room is yours yet?”

“Not really. Derek is going to take the basement, and I don’t want to be up on the top floor all by myself.”

“Well,” she smirked, “There are those two jack and jill rooms, by the kitchen. Maybe you and Erica…?”

His head snapped up and a look of panic crossed behind his eyes.

“What?”

“No secret crushes in wolf packs, man,” she smiled and patted his shoulder. “Sorry, I think she knows too.”

“Shit,” he whispered under his breath, and then went back to stacking. Laura smiled, but put him out of his misery and hefted some boxes onto her hips to bring into the house. It was different, she thought, to how she remembered the pack house growing up. More nebulous and chaotic and they would have to drive to the woods on full moons. But it felt good, for the first time in a long time. She felt good.


End file.
